


Memory

by liv1701



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, whouffaldi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 07:21:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30085485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liv1701/pseuds/liv1701
Summary: Instead of the Doctor losing his memories of Clara, she loses her memories of him. When they find their way back to each other, they're finally ready to admit their true feelings.
Relationships: Twelfth Doctor/Clara Oswin Oswald
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	Memory

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place at the same time as The Pilot from series 10, except it's Clara who ends up connecting with the Doctor instead of Bill. I imagine that in this universe Bill and Heather live happily ever after in a way that doesn't involve anyone getting sucked into a puddle or turned into a Cyberman. I don't know what year The Pilot takes place or whether the timing makes sense for Clara to be there, but for the sake of this story, we're not worrying about things like that.

There were gaps of time missing from Clara Oswald's memory. She wasn't sure how large the gaps were, but she had the feeling that she had forgotten something significant. Sometimes at night she would stare out her window at the stars, trying to remember. A few months passed without improvement, and Clara was left feeling adrift and not like herself.

After taking some time off, she decided she needed to shake things up in order to move forward. She started by getting a fringe cut at her next hair appointment, which was an easy way of changing things up that she had used several times in the past. Her next step was slightly bigger, and that was to go back to school. She thought the structure and predictability would help her feel more grounded.

She accidentally went to the wrong class in her first week at university, but the mistake had a very gratifying result. Clara quickly realized that she was in the wrong place, but she couldn’t pull herself away. The professor, who had introduced himself to the packed room as simply "the Doctor," was the most fascinating speaker she had ever heard. From the first syllable he uttered, he gave an impression of authority. He had an uncanny intelligence that made the other professors look like simpletons, and his manner of speaking was captivating.

After a few minutes, Clara forgot that she was in the wrong class. The Doctor was strange and seemed out of place. The more he talked, the more it seemed like he existed on a level above everything else. The things he said rang true, yet his full meaning was just out of reach. In spite of that, there was a strange familiarity about him. If Clara had stopped to analyze it, she might have described it almost as a feeling of déjà vu.

As he walked across the stage near where she was sitting, his gaze passed over her. He stopped suddenly and looked back, his penetrating eyes meeting hers, then he continued on, having barely broken his stride. It only lasted a moment, but it had a powerful impact on Clara. Suddenly her heart was pounding and she felt a sense of urgency that she couldn’t place. It was like she was missing something important.

Clara’s attention had previously been on the Doctor’s words, but now she studied his appearance. His face was otherworldly but handsome, and his curly hair was a beautiful shade of silver. He was tall and slender. His clothes were a little bit ill-fitting and shabby, but that didn't seem to take away from his attractiveness. He gestured with his hands as he spoke, and Clara’s eyes were drawn to his long, graceful fingers. She was hit by a wave of desire, and she looked away for a moment in surprise. It wasn’t like her to be so affected by someone so quickly.

Resolving to stop checking out the professor, Clara went back to concentrating on the lecture, which had just gone past complex and was now incomprehensible.

"Time is a structure relative to ourselves. Time is the space made by our lives, where we stand together forever."

Clara distinctly saw the Doctor glance at her before turning to the chalkboard.

"Time and relative dimension in space."

He wrote the words on the board, each capitalized and arranged one on top of the other, as if it was an acronym.

TARDIS

The color blue came to Clara's mind, as if someone had said the word "rose" and it brought to mind the color red. The Doctor turned from the board and walked to the front of the stage.

"It means life."

Clara studied and went to her classes as if everything was normal, but she couldn't get the Doctor out of her mind. One week later she was sitting in the same seat as last time, ready to listen to another mind-boggling lecture. It was embarrassing and confusing to admit to herself, but she had made sure to sit in the same seat to make it easier for him to find her in the crowd.

When the Doctor appeared, Clara noticed immediately that he was dressed differently. In place of a holey jumper, worn hoodie, and large, lumpy jacket, he wore a crisp white button-down shirt, a black waistcoat, and a well-fitted maroon velvet coat. Even his trousers were a more flattering style. Clara's heart skipped a beat. After thinking about him all week, she had wondered if she had built him up in her mind to be more than he was, but he was even more attractive than before.

He had only been standing on the stage for a few seconds before his gaze found her. A shadow of an expression that might have been a smile passed over his face, and then he was looking somewhere else and had begun his lecture on the science of memory. Clara couldn't believe it. He couldn't have chosen that subject by accident, could he? Clara didn't dare to hope that he had the secret to her missing memories, but she also couldn't dismiss whatever was happening. She decided to go to his office and speak to him after her classes were over.

Clara found her way to the Doctor's office. When no one answered her knock, she found that the door was unlocked and decided it would be ok to let herself in. There was no one inside. She had only just started to look around at the art on the walls and the objects on the desk when a man entered the room. He was round and bald, and he walked somewhat squeakily.

"Do you have an appointment?" he asked.

"No, I just want to ask a question if he has a minute," said Clara.

"You can't see the Doctor without an appointment," said the man.

"Is he here? I only need a minute."

"I'm sorry, I'm going to have to ask you to come this way." He indicated toward the door, his arm squeaking as he raised it.

Politely making no comment about the strange noises he was making, Clara sat down in the chair in front of the desk.

"I can wait until he gets back. If he doesn't have time to talk, I'll make an appointment."

There was movement to Clara's right, and she turned to see a large blue box in the corner of the room. The Doctor stepped out and closed the doors behind him. He looked at her, and she thought she saw some kind of intense emotion behind his eyes, despite his otherwise inscrutable face. Then the expression cleared, and he turned to the squeaky man.

"That will be all, Nardole, thank you."

"But she doesn't have an appointment," Nardole protested. "You told me--"

"I said that will be all."

"But sir!"

The Doctor sank into his chair and sighed dramatically. He grabbed a piece of paper and a pen, wrote something quickly, and held it up for Nardole to see.

Ms. Oswald, 4PM

"There, you see? She has an appointment," said the Doctor. "Now can I trouble you to make us some tea?"

Nardole didn't reply, but Clara, who was facing the Doctor, heard some resentful-sounding squeaks followed by the sound of the door closing firmly.

"You know my name?" she asked.

"Of course," said the Doctor after a slight pause. "You're a student."

"I'm not really in your class."

"Then what business do you have in my office?"

"What were you doing in that box?" asked Clara.

"It's a supply closet. How can I help you, Ms. Oswald?"

Clara thought for a moment before answering, "I'm not really sure."

The Doctor raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

"Your lecture today, about memory," Clara continued hesitantly. "It made me wonder if you could help me. I had some memory loss, and ever since then I've felt confused. I think I must have forgotten something important."

The Doctor sat back in his chair and laced his long fingers together. He studied Clara's face with a serious expression. She supposed she ought to be intimidated by him, but she wasn't. She sensed that he was someone who could be trusted, someone who was on her side.

"What caused the memory loss?" he asked.

"I have no idea. That's part of what I've forgotten."

"What if you're better off without whatever you forgot?" asked the Doctor. "Perhaps it was caused by trauma."

"I'm entitled to know my own past," said Clara.

A pained expression crossed the Doctor's face.

"You're right," he said quietly. "You're right," he repeated with a small smile that was both fond and sad. Then he frowned. "But I'm afraid I can't help you."

"Why not?" asked Clara. She felt devastated.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Oswald, but my office hours are over for the day. Please be good enough to make an appointment next time."

He said it with such finality that Clara stood up immediately with no thought of arguing. The Doctor stood up as well and offered her his hand. She took it.

"Good evening, Ms. Oswald," he said.

He gave her hand a single formal shake before releasing it. Clara could only nod before she turned and left the room, shutting the door behind her. There was a bench in the hall, and she sank onto it. Her legs were too shaky to go any further until she could get a handle on her emotions. Her right hand tingled pleasantly. When he held her hand in his, it had felt so right. But his words when he sent her away had felt wrong. They felt false, as if he was putting on an act. The more Clara thought about it, the more sure she was that he hadn't really wanted her to leave.

She stood up, the strength restored to her legs. She went back into the office, but it appeared to be deserted. After a quick search around the room, Clara turned to the blue box, the one that was supposedly a supply closet. The door was slightly ajar. That's where he had been when she first arrived, so it wasn't completely crazy to think that he might be in there now.

Clara pushed the doors open and gasped. She stepped back and examined the box from all sides. She put her arm between it and the wall. It should be barely large enough for two people to stand in. She went back to the front and looked inside again. Gathering her courage, she stepped through the doors.

It was huge. It was beautiful, strange, and completely impossible. At the center was a column of light. Clara walked toward it and found that it was ringed by a hexagonal console covered with buttons, switches, and levers. She traced her hand along the edge of the console, trying to make sense of the controls.

"Clara!"

She turned to see the Doctor coming up a staircase to her right. He looked shaken.

"What is this?" she asked.

"It's--my study." He indicated to the bookshelves on the upper level.

She arched an eyebrow. "I'm not stupid, you know."

"Oh, I know," said the Doctor with a small smile. "What are you doing here?"

She went over to him, close enough that she had to tilt her head back to examine his face. His handsome features were bathed in the warm light from the center of the console. He looked down at her with eyes that were full of longing. He was strikingly beautiful. She reached up and placed her hands on his shoulders. He looked down at them in surprise, but when he looked back at her face his expression became almost hungry.

"Don't send me away," she said. "I can see that you don't want to. There's something you're not telling me."

"Clara," he said, his voice choked with emotion. He raised his hands to grasp her elbows. "Do you really not know? How could you be here unless you remembered?"

"Remembered what?" she asked.

He let go of her and turned away. Clara let her hands slip from his shoulders. He started to pace back and forth.

"This can't be a coincidence," he said, thinking out loud rather than talking to Clara. "I was so sure that a clean break was necessary. But what could this be other than the universe telling me I was wrong?"

The Doctor sat down on the stairs, bowing his head and covering his face with his hands in frustration.

"What are you talking about?" asked Clara. When he didn't answer, she sat down next to him on the stairs. Placing a hand on his shoulder, she said gently, "Please tell me what's going on."

He removed his hands from his face and looked at her. His eyes were filled with emotion. He turned his body toward her, and she mirrored him automatically. They were sitting close together, so close that their knees were touching. The Doctor leaned closer still, as if he was about to whisper a secret. His eyes were blazing into hers.

"Do you trust me?" he asked.

"Completely," she answered without hesitation.

"That was part of the problem last time," he said.

"Last time?"

The Doctor raised his hands to her face, pressing the tips of his elegant fingers to her temples. Clara felt a spark of electricity at his touch, and a moment later her life flashed before her eyes. The life she had forgotten. One moment she was someone who had never traveled with the Doctor, and the next she was someone very different. It felt like she was waking up from a long dream.

Clara smiled, joy filling her to the brim as she looked at the man in front of her. He was what she had been missing. She took his face in her hands and ran one thumb along his cheekbone.

"Doctor."

She threw her arms around his neck and drew him into a hug. After a few seconds of hesitation, the Doctor returned her embrace with surprising force, pulling her tightly to himself. Clara raised one hand to the back of his head and ran her fingers through his hair. His arms tightened around her waist. She brought her lips to his neck and kissed it softly.

"Clara," he breathed fervently.

She kissed a line up the Doctor's neck from his collar to his ear. She kissed his cheek, then pulled back to look at his face.

"I took your memories," he said. He looked ashamed. "Aren't you upset with me?"

"Not even a little," said Clara. "All that matters is that we're together now. Let's not waste any more time. I love you, Doctor. You don't have to say the words. Just say yes."

"Clara Oswald," he said, smiling. He reached up and stroked her cheek. "My hearts have belonged to no one but you for as long as I've worn this face. I love you."

She smiled. "Then kiss me."

The Doctor slid his hand to the back of her neck and pulled her into a kiss. Clara had fantasized about kissing him more times than she could count, but actually feeling his lips against hers was overwhelming. When she parted her lips and felt the Doctor's tongue trace hers, it sent a jolt of electricity through her body. She raked her fingers through his soft fluffy curls. He moaned her name, low and needy. At that, every ounce of self control that Clara might have been hanging onto evaporated. She kissed him harder, took hold of his lapels, and pushed his coat off his shoulders. He shrugged out of it, but he stopped her when she reached for the first button on his waistcoat.

"Should we take this to my bedroom?" he asked somewhat nervously.

"I thought you'd never ask."

He stood, gave Clara a hand up, then scooped her up in his arms as if he was about to carry her over the threshold. She giggled and held onto his neck as he carried her toward another staircase. She expected him to put her down when they reached it, but he walked down the stairs with her in his arms as if she was no burden or hindrance at all. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Clara began to kiss the Doctor's neck, alternating between kisses, gentle sucks, and playful nips. He stopped walking for a moment to kiss her before continuing on.

He put her down when they arrived at the bedroom, and Clara began to unbutton his waistcoat. The Doctor's large hands held her at the waist, and he kissed her forehead as she worked. When the waistcoat had been thrown aside, Clara smiled.

"What is it?" asked the Doctor.

"You always wear so many layers. With just one shirt on you look practically indecent!"

"I can put them back on if you like."

"Oh no," said Clara, reaching for his top shirt button. "We're both about to get a lot more indecent."

The Doctor ran a single finger over the buttons on her dress in a line down the middle of her chest. A shiver of anticipation ran down her spine. Her hands shook slightly as she undid his buttons. She was tempted to rip the shirt open, but she refrained. When it was about halfway undone, she pressed a few kisses to his bare chest. He inhaled sharply, and she glanced up to make sure his reaction was a positive one.

"If you think that's good, just wait a few more minutes," she said with a wicked smile.

He took her cheek in one hand and affectionately smoothed her hair away from her face with the other. The love in his eyes melted her heart and stoked her fire.

"It's just that I never thought this was possible," he said. "Being with you like this--it's everything I wanted and never dared to hope could ever happen."

Clara wound her arms around his neck and stood on her toes to kiss him. He took hold of her waist and pulled her tightly against himself. Her arousal shot through the roof when she felt his hard length pressed against her. The Doctor being hard for her was a fantasy come true. She ached to feel him inside her.

"Oh Doctor!" she gasped, her hips twitching forward of their own accord.

He pulled her into a devouring kiss. After a minute Clara broke it off in order to get back to the task of removing the inconvenient items of clothing that separated her skin from the Doctor's. She finished removing his shirt and tossed it onto a chair. She ran her hands down his chest, then stepped back.

"Belt, shoes, socks," she instructed.

He obeyed while she removed her shoes and tights. She unbuttoned the top half of her dress, let it fall to the floor, and kicked it aside. The Doctor looked her up and down with obvious desire.

"Now the rest," said Clara.

The Doctor's trousers hit the floor and he stood naked in front of her. Clara was so distracted by the sight that she forgot to finish getting undressed herself. The Doctor stepped forward, reached around, and unhooked her bra easily with one hand. Clara only had a moment to feel impressed before a much stronger feeling took over as the Doctor cupped her breasts. Then one hand slid slowly down her stomach and over the curve of her hip. With one fluid motion he removed her sodden panties.

He kissed her tenderly as he explored her body, mapping out her curves with his hands. One hand found its way around to her inner thigh, moving slowly in the direction of her entrance. The Doctor looked at Clara as if seeking permission. She smiled encouragingly, and he slipped two long, cool fingers inside her. Clara's head fell back with a moan. The Doctor smiled smugly.

"You seem ready."

"Shut up," said Clara in response to that massive understatement. She writhed against his hand. "Bed. Now."

"Yes ma'am."

The Doctor pulled his hand away, and Clara watched with wide eyes as he brought it to his mouth and sucked her juices from his exquisite fingers with obvious relish. She let out a breathless curse, grabbed his hand, and led him to the bed. When he was lying beside her, Clara began an exploration of his body with her hands and lips and tongue. When she got to the part of him that needed the most attention, she began with a single lick up the length of it. He cried out and his head flung back against the pillow. His slim hips jerked upward, seeking more.

She took him into her mouth, sucking gently, teasingly, and trying different things with her tongue.

"Clara! Clara, Clara!" his voice was low and gravelly as he chanted her name. A few moments later he said, "Stop a moment, love. I'm too close."

Clara stopped and crawled back up to kiss him. He rolled them over so that she lay beneath him. She watched as he slowly kissed a line from her stomach up to the center of her breasts. His strong, long-fingered hand cupped one breast, and he looked up at her. His pink tongue darted out to lick his lips, and a string of curses flitted through Clara's mind. Smiling, the Doctor lowered his tempting mouth to the other breast, circled his tongue around her nipple, and began to gently suck. The sight was just as arousing as the feeling of it, and Clara threw her head back in pleasure.

_Please, Doctor_ , she thought. _I need you inside me._

His mouth slipped from her breast with a groan of longing.

"Soon, love," he purred.

Clara gave a start.

"Can you hear my thoughts?" she asked.

"It's hard not to hear them in this situation," he said. "You were practically shouting just now."

She blushed, but he brought his face level with hers again and kissed away her embarrassment. His hand began to wend its way downward, closer and closer to the center of her need. Finally he stroked gently across her slick folds and clit. As soon as his finger made contact, Clara's head fell back with a desperate moan. She was so close already.

"Doctor!" she choked out. "I'm--"

"I know," he said, gazing at her with a mixture of adoration and lust as his finger continued to work. "It's ok, Clara."

That was all she needed. A few moments later she was crying out and bucking up against his hand. His touch turned slow and gentle as she rode the aftershocks, and soon she was headed toward a second orgasm. He interrupted her progress, instead using that hand to line himself up with her entrance. He began to slide slowly inside her, giving her time to adjust to his girth. Clara smiled at the look of sublime pleasure on his face as he entered her.

At first the Doctor's movements were slow and controlled, obviously trying to keep it from being over too quickly. He dipped his head down to kiss her, and she tangled her fingers in his silver curls. Clara could barely believe that this was happening. She had wanted him so much and for so long.

The Doctor's hips jerked forward roughly, and she gasped.

"Say it again, Clara," said her telepathic lover.

"I want you so much, Doctor."

Again his hips reacted to her words, driving his cock into her harder still.

"Clara! My Clara," he said, slowing his pace again. "You have no idea how much I wanted you. How long I've wanted you. So many years."

His voice was low and sensual, and it brought her closer to the edge. Her hips wriggled beneath him, seeking more friction. He lowered his hand to assist her, and she was soon moments away. She moved his hand aside, and he began to drive into her harder and faster.

"Doctor!" she cried, and a second later she moaned loudly. Her muscles clenched around his cock and he came hard, adding his own moans to hers. They rode the wave together until they were both spent. The Doctor kissed her tenderly, then rolled over to lay beside her.

Clara put her forehead against his and thought, _I love you, Doctor._

_I love you too, Clara Oswald_ , he replied.

They lay there for a few minutes in the afterglow. Clara was thrilled that he seemed more than willing to cuddle afterward. He held her somewhat protectively, as if he was afraid she might disappear.

But something he'd said earlier was nagging at her. About how he'd wanted her for so many years.

"Doctor, how many years have you been teaching at this university?" she asked.

There was a pause, and Clara braced herself for the answer.

"Seventy years."

"You've loved me for longer than I've been alive," she said in an awed voice.

"Much longer," he agreed.

Clara took the Doctor's face in her hands and kissed him, hoping to convey through that kiss the feelings that she couldn't find the words to express.

He smiled, and she knew that he understood.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not very experienced with smut, so I hope it was ok! Any feedback on that or the story in general would be greatly appreciated. <3


End file.
